


Comfort and Hope

by captainafroelf



Category: Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Black Character(s), Childhood Friends, Daily Planet, Explosions, F/M, Female Character of Color, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Light Angst, Minor Injuries, Reunions, because i'm bad at seeing things, but hey, fuck it am i right?, i haven't seen bvs, or justice league, so this could just all be wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 15:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13592646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainafroelf/pseuds/captainafroelf
Summary: Clark sees an old friend and something gentle blooms as they reconnect.





	Comfort and Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpartanLady16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpartanLady16/gifts).



> So this was an ordeal! Hope you like it though.

About a thousand articles about Superman’s great battle in Metropolis had been written to the point where they were all redundant echo chamber pieces about how someone, particularly Superman, needed to pay some sort of reparations to the city. They were all dismal pieces that reduced the injuries and casualties of that day to numbers on screens. There was no optimism, no idealism, and Clark burned for it. He wanted to see good people and good work get the spotlight, even if it were meant to contrast his own actions.

The moment he got an assignment to interview a local hero, he practically leapt at the chance. This was exactly what he wanted, something that would inspire people to be like Superman in their own small ways.

Then, he saw who this local hero was.

“Haven Sloane…” he whispered.

Lois sipped her coffee and her brows raised. “Do you know her?”

He knew her.

He knew her a long time ago, before he had an explanation for any of this, really. His mind filled with images of a brace faced girl with parents who looked nothing like her. It was her first day of school and her hair was braided neatly like a crown around her head. Before the end of the day, she’d be picking gum out of that braid, crying, the way he had so often in his young life.

When the final bell rang, he helped her carry her books out to her parent’s car and her parents thanked him. She thanked him, too, but it was too late. The day had already broken her.

He saw that mile-wide smile shrink as the days went on. He would talk to her when he could and try to get her to laugh, but the laughter was brief. She was constantly looking over her shoulder, constantly waiting for the airplane to be thrown her way. She carried all of her books in her backpack because she heard some kids whispering about putting a rotten apple in her locker. Clark checked, and there was none, but she didn’t trust that they couldn’t try it later.

At the end of the year, she and her parents had received so much vitriol that they decided to pack up and move. They would rather be somewhere else, than be miserable.  
Haven Sloane was a friend he thought he would never see again.

“We went to school together,” he told Lois.

Lois gasped excitedly. “Do you think she’ll remember you?”

“I don’t know… She didn’t exactly have a great time when we were in school together. I had nothing to do with the bad memories but it might’ve all been a bad memory. What is she being interviewed for?”

“She's an extraordinary teacher. Her students are some of the happiest in the city with the highest test scores. She drives some of them to school every morning because their parents lost their cars when Zod attacked. She's heavily involved with social justice and reform organizations in the city. She's a bit of a rising star.” Lois raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to interview her? You could. I was going to but I’m already working on a different piece.”

He chuckled. “Perry wouldn't let me take your place...” He could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t about to take that for an answer. “... But I’d really like that.”

“I knew it.” She handed him her interview questions. “I’m sure she’ll be excited to see you.”

* * *

  
A few days later, Clark walked into the empty classroom and a wave of memories hit him. He took pictures of the colorful bulletin boards covered with her students’ achievements, and all of the books. The posters on the walls were of people he didn’t usually see being memorialized in schools, people of all creeds who took stands against injustice.

Behind him, a pair of heels clicked against the hard classroom’s floor. He turned around and his breath was taken away. It was Haven, definitely. Same sparkling brown eyes, same dark brown skin. She was wearing a white henley with a navy a-line skirt that had the constellations printed on it. Her curly hair was pinned into a frohawk. She took off her black pumps and closed the classroom door. The school day had ended and she was clearly tired, but not in a bad mood.

Clark worried that glow that she had as a child had been completely stamped out. He couldn’t have been happier to be proven so wrong.

“Sorry, I wasn’t here to greet you. Two of my kids wanted to show me a dance routine. It was just a variation on an old Janet Jackson routine, but I didn’t tell them that.” She set her heels down behind her desk and switched them with a pair of white hi-top Chucks. “I’m Haven Sloane, nice to meet you.”

He shook her hand. “We’ve, uh, we've met actually.”

She eyed him and shook her head. “I’d remember that.”

Clark blushed. “No, I’m Clark Kent.” Haven froze, then took a step back. Her eyes scanned him for familiarity. Something that could confirm that this was that Clark Kent. “Why would I lie about that?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know farmboys did journalism...” He smiled, so she _did_ remember him after all. Haven pulled out two fold up chairs for the two of them. “Well, would it take up too much of your time to ask how’ve you been?”

“Things didn’t get better in general for a while after you left, but I forged my path, as I guess we all do. How’ve you been?”

“I was little depressed for a while after I moved. I got some help eventually and I think I turned out alright.”

“And your parents?”

“My dads? Still together, still alive, still amazing. How are yours?”

“My mom is alright.”

She waited for him to mention his father, but the moment never came. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s been a while. There was a twister. He saved lives.”

“Sounds very in character for him,” she said. “Jonathan Kent was a great father. He was someone my dads really looked up to, with them being so new to everything.”

Clark set down his bag and took out his phone to record the interview. She watched him, wringing her hands, still only half-believing that Clark Kent, of all people, was standing in front of her. As she was growing up, she thought that if she ever saw someone from Smallville again, she would panic, vomit, or faint. But Clark did not elicit fear or disgust from her. She'd always associated him with comfort, and with hope.

She saw traces of the boy she knew. It was in his stride, in his quietness. There was a part of him that was still the same isolated, nerdy Clark Kent. Those eyes were unmistakable. Shimmering, bright blue. She couldn’t lie to them.

“Um, can I be real with you?”

He sat down in front of her and she sat too. “You can be as real as you want. That's what we're here for.”

She shook her head. “I appreciate the feature, I do. But I don't see the point in it.” She could see that he needed an explanation so she went on. “I’m doing my job, you know? It's not a huge deal. The kids of this city have been through a lot, school should be their safe space.”

“But there’s something noble about that.”

Haven laughed dryly. “There’s something noble about common human decency? Is that what we’ve all been reduced to? Applauding kindness?”

“Kindness? No. But the extra mile, maybe.”

She grinned. “The extra mile was you braving the girl’s bathroom to bring me lunch one day.”

He smiled from ear to ear. “I was always told it smelled better in there.”

“Yeah? Someone really lied to you!”

They laughed. “I mean, Haven, if you don’t want to do the interview, we don’t have to. I can easily write about you without it.”

“No, you’re already here, we should do this.”

Clark opened his notebook and took a deep breath, which then prompted Haven to take a deep breath. “You ready to start?” She nodded. He started the recorder and set it down. “So, how long have you been teaching here, Miss. Sloane?”

She bit her bottom lip. “I’m not so old… Three? Maybe four years?”

“Why sixth graders? Any reason?”

She shrugged. “I remember being a sixth grader. It was my third school in two years. I grew up with two fathers so you can imagine…” There was a pause, she drifted off into her own thoughts for a moment. “My teacher had me taken to the principal’s office because the kids were yelling slurs. One of their moms figured out that my dads weren’t just two good friends co-parenting. It was the worst day of my life because it never felt odd to me before then. But suddenly I was aware of so much. I was aware that my dads were white and I was Black, and that they were two men. I was aware that other kids who were previously indiscriminately kind could turn on me so quickly. It began to force me inward. I think this time is an important one for kids, it’s right at the point where they’re really starting to think about their own identities.”

“Was there a teacher in your life who inspired you?”

“Yes, my tenth grade American History teacher. Mr. Reuben. He was openly gay, but my school didn’t care. My dads appreciated the extra support and counseling that he gave me… He passed away during the attack. So I lost something massively important to me, like so many of my students did.” Clark noticed her getting choked up and gave her a moment. "Sorry..."

“Don't be sorry, take your time. He was a great man, he would have been proud of you. After the attack, so many people volunteered and gave blood and donated to different causes. You chose something more personal, more time consuming, some would say more inconvenient than all of that. You became a guardian to some of your students who were really hurting. Were you reconciling with your past, or was this pure altruism?”

Haven paused and looked down. She twirled one of the rings on her hand and debated saying what she was about to say. “I think pure altruism is an alien fighting and killing one of his own for the sake of a people that he has no connection to. That same alien then agreeing to disappear because we can’t handle the fact that he even exists, despite the fact that we wouldn’t exist without his help.” She locked eyes with Clark again. “That’s kindness and altruism. _What I do is my job_ . I just... Have a habit of running into burning buildings, is all. Everyone has the capacity to be heroic and selfless. I want the kids to know that."

After the interview, Clark packed his things and Haven went back to straightening out her classroom. She noticed that he couldn’t stop smiling at her. It would’ve been a little creepy if his smile weren’t so pretty.

“Did I give you enough soundbites?” she asked.

He nodded. “More than enough.”

“You seemed pleased. Happy to help.”

He looked over to her. Like a scene from a movie, he remembered the very last time that he saw her. She was in the backseat of her car, looking back at him through the window as she was driven by the Kent farm. She barely waved to him. Being a child, Clark hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of people not being permanent, and it really struck him.

He wasn't about to walk out of that classroom with nothing more to say. “Haven, I never thought I’d see you again,” he told her. “Never. Since my dad died… I don’t want this to be the last time we speak to each other.”

“I promise I’m not exciting.”

“Neither am I.”

She rolled her eyes and peeled off a Post-It note. Then wrote her number down for him. “Clark Kent, that has never been true.”

She handed him the pink Post-It and he put it in his back pocket. “Haven?”

“Yeah?”

"Would you like to get something to eat with me?"

She smirked. "I just finished a ten-hour shift that included a fist fight and at least two instances where the class randomly started rapping Bodak Yellow, so yeah I could use some adult food with adult company. I'll just grab my bag." Clark waited patiently while Haven gathered her things. She turned off the classroom light and let out a small, excited squeal. "Sorry, I don't get out much."

He scoffed. "Neither do I."

"You're a handsome guy. A bit of a geek, sure, but handsome. I'm surprised."

"I'm busy."

"Not busy, just dedicated," she said. He raised an eyebrow, and she had to laugh at herself. "I know it's dumb as hell but I have tell myself that whenever I cancel plans to grade essays that I know were put together hours before the authors got to class."

"You might just be dedicated if you're putting more thought into it than they have."

"Dedicated or stupid or maybe both. Is there such a thing as dedicated stupidity?"

He shrugged. "If there is, we might both have that."

They went to a restaurant a few blocks away. Clark pulled a chair out for Haven, and she tried not to be impressed by that, but it was such a rare feat to go to dinner with a chivalrous man that she couldn't help but take notice. Clark was mild-mannered, with that farmboy charm that he inherited from his father. Living in the city, she didn't see enough of that.

Her stomach rumbled at the smell of comfort food and it was so loud that she covered her face. "It sounds like a monster..."

Clark laughed. "Looks like I came at the right time."

Her eyes barely scanned the menu when they glued themselves back on him. Eventually, she'd have to get over the fact that present-day Clark Kent was a reporter for the Daily Planet ~~who was built like a brick house~~ , but at that moment it was far too remarkable. "I've barely eaten."

"It's that dedication."

"Dedicated stupidity, Clark." She sighed. "I'm making myself busy, honestly. I've filled my schedule wall to wall with work. My dad is trying to write a memoir and I'm not ghostwriting it but I'm _practically_ ghostwriting it, I'm taking care of the kids before and after school, I'm trying to find a way to adopt without a second parent, although I know I can't because I've filled my schedule wall to wall with work."

Clark's face lit up. "You want a kid?"

She covered her mouth. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned that to you. This is why I don't have friends." Clark didn't respond, but Haven went on, verbally digging herself into a hole. "It's a pipe dream, you know? I guess... I wanna raise a child the way my parents' did, but without the violence that I had to face. I want a chance to see if I can do it."

Clark's sweet expression reached across the table and calmed her nerves. She felt like she could spill her guts to him and not feel the need to apologize, despite feeling the need to apologize. "Haven, that's incredible. Honestly, it is."

She shook her head. "I want one person to be honest with me and tell me I'm not cut out for this."

"You might not be now, but there's always time later."

The waitress arrived and took their orders. When Haven's soda arrived, she absentmindedly stirred it with her straw and tried to shuffle through the thousands of questions she had for Clark. She pulled the straw into her mouth and took a long sip before Clark noticed her staring and a slight pink tinge covered his cheeks.

"What?"

"Do you still have those fits?" she asked. Clark seemed a bit confused. "Remember? You used to freak out and run to go hide in the closet for some quiet. I sat behind you at that point, I think, because it was _definitely_ after you started telling me the worst jokes I've ever heard to try and cheer me up."

"My jokes weren't that bad."

Haven smiled just thinking about them. For a moment, Clark felt proud that she still smiled about the time they spent together, despite the environment. "They were awful... I used to get so worried about you. I think I asked my dads if something was wrong with you, but they didn't think so."

He cleared his throat. "I grew out of that."

"Good. What was it? If that's not too much to ask."

"Oh, it was, uh, hereditary illness."

"Oh geez..."

"Nothing to worry about anymore. It doesn't flare up."

She nodded, understanding exactly how he felt. "I have a panic disorder, I'm not great with crowds anymore. It sucked for me as a rebellious, despondent teenager who wanted nothing more than to go to concerts, but I just couldn't do it without panicking. I don't think my job gives me room to panic, so it helps."

"My job doesn't give me much room, either."

"Yeah, you'd be an awful reporter if you panicked in crowds." The waitress brought the food to their table, and it was Clark's turn to stare at Haven. God, what a beauty, and he just wanted to hear her talk for hours if she could. "So do you work for or with Lois Lane?"

"I do."

"What a lady."

"She's incredible."

She put her hands over her heart. "If I got that close to Superman I think I would melt into a puddle. Not just because he's attractive but all that he represents is so monumental to our position in the universe. He has opened a door that was never meant to be opened, and she chased that story like a dog chasing a car, how admirable."

"She's far more interesting than he is."

She giggled. "I think the rest of the world would disagree with you, but you'll find no arguments here."

"Opened a door that was never meant to be opened..."

"I don't mean that in a bad way. I'm not one of those people that thinks he's, like, the world police or a sign of the apocalypse. I think Superman is... more than the world deserves, that's all."

"The world deserves hope, doesn't it?"

Haven's expression shifted from one of contemplation into one of slight epiphany. She looked up at Clark for a moment, then tore her eyes away again, slowly shaking her head at her own strange thought. The waitress snickered.

"You two are the cutest!" she said. She turned to Clark. "Good choice, hon."

Before Clark could inform her that they weren't dating, she'd walked away. Now, Haven was looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "I mean, you are objectively a good choice, but that's not what this is."

Haven blinked back into the conversation and pulled a fake laugh. "Yeah..."

They spent hours in that restaurant, talking about everything. She couldn't remember the last time anyone ate with her, and they spoke as if they hadn't lost years of communication. It was healing for them to be with someone who really understood them. In a dark world, they needed the feeling of being understood, and of being heard. They were two outcasts extending their hands out to each other. 

The waitress brought Haven a bit of sweet potato pie to go, and she hummed blissfully. "I've earned this."

"You have."

She took a deep breath and grinned at Clark, pushing the pie into the center of the table. "We've earned this." He raised an eyebrow. "I'm inviting you back to my place, Clark. Do you have somewhere else to be?"

 _Nope!,_ thought Clark. But that wasn't entirely true. He could practically hear Perry asking him where he'd been in a voice that wasn't quite a shout but close enough to it. "Oh, yeah, I should probably head back to the office and get to work."

She was slightly disappointed, but understanding. "I should head home then. Shame. The pie's great here and I'm all about sharing."

"I'll bet."

A smile spread on her face. She pointed her fork at him. "That was pure Martha Kent right there." Haven stood up and collected her things, then walked over to Clark and kissed him on the cheek. "I missed you a lot. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

* * *

 

Haven spoke to Clark everyday for months. She mostly called him to know how he was and hear about his stories, but he always wanted to focus on her. It was a level of attentiveness that she wasn't entirely used to, but she couldn't deny that she liked it. Clark wasn't exactly a social butterfly (When they went to a museum together and a woman flirted with him he was practically stunned) but his propensity for shyness only made him seem sweeter. Haven even attributed her newfound love of The Daily Planet to Clark's influence. "There's actually decent journalism happening there," she told him. "Who knew?"

Although, she noticed, there was something very odd about Clark Kent, odder than she'd originally thought. Clark spoke about Superman with a strange intimacy. At first, she pinned it down as a symptom of him working at the publication that ran the most articles about him. As a reporter, it was his job to get intimately involved with any major, ongoing story. As the days went on with a scattered few more small conversations about Superman, Haven started to wonder if his feelings were somehow beyond the scope of journalistic passion.

This didn't distract from the great time she was having with him, however, and the feelings were easily reciprocated. Clark felt a little less lonely with Haven. He couldn't help but feel that, if she knew about Superman, she would understand him more than anyone.

Well, as it happened, he wouldn't have to wait long to find out if he were right.

Haven was on her lunch break when she called Clark, who was on his lunch break across town. Boredom hit her hard, she was sitting in a park, trying to enjoy a fruit salad without acknowledging that no fruit salad from a truck could ever count as a full meal. The wolf-whistling of a passing police officer got old as quickly as it began, so she watched a group of pigeons have a fascinating conversation before Clark finally answered her call.

"Clark, do you know anything about ornithology?" she asked. "Because I'm pretty sure I'm watching a pigeon marriage dissolve."

He chuckled. "Maybe if you give them bread crumbs it'll soothe whatever conflict's going on."

As one pigeon flew away, she sucked her teeth. "No, I don't think this man's getting his wife back." Haven looked up, she was sitting near a construction site. The sign said that the building was due to be demolished the next week. Of course, the sign had said that for three months, with little movement. She was starting to think that the building would just remain, standing in limbo forever. “Did I tell you that I met up with my dads last night for dinner?”

“Did you? How are they?”

“Annoying! I told them about you and they started asking the same weird questions. You know, typical dad questions about if you’re single and if I’m interested. It was so embarrassing.”

Clark’s cheeks flushed, but he covered his flusteredness with a laugh. “Right…”

"I told them you have a thing for Lois, though..."

"Really, Haven?"

"Don't be mad at me! I wanted the questions to stop and I was willing to say anything. Luckily for you, your girl is a bad liar and they didn't believe me at all."

"You? A bad liar? News to me."

She rolled her eyes. "I do want you to come with me to this teacher's awards thing." He sighed. "I know you don't like parties, neither do I, but I'm getting honored so I guess I have to go."

"Can your dads not go?"

"Clark, have I mentioned that they're loud and embarrassing? Because they are. I just want to go with a friend this time, and you're honestly one of the few people I could hang out with for hours and never get bored."

"Really?"

Clark thought back to a Friday night the week before. Haven needed his help running errands that she hadn't had time to do during the day. They were together for four hours, navigating grocery stores and fighting the tug of sleep. Her hair glowed like a halo around her head beneath the streetlights, and they shared so many laughs that his throat was hoarse the next day. She was right, they never got bored. 

"I'll think about it."

"Good! It's not black tie, but there's still a dress co-" There was a noise in the background, it sounded like an explosion. Clark heard it too, his head turned in the direction of the sound, a cloud of dust rose into the sky. On Haven's side of the call, there was sudden chaos and screaming. Haven looked at the building in front of her with wide, terrified eyes. "Something just went boom." There was more noise,  Haven saw dust rise as the the condemned building imploded. “I have to go!”

“Haven?”

It was the end of the call. A third explosion, louder than the rest, hit his ears. Sirens were already beginning to bounce off of skyscrapers. If there were ever a time for Superman, this might have been the time.

Clark sprung into action, finding a secluded place to change, far from everyone else before taking to the skies. He flew in the direction of the chaos, beating the fire department by half a minute, only to discover a far worse wreck than he’d anticipated. The building hadn’t just imploded, it had exploded, sending rubble into nearby buildings, cars, and the park below. He scanned the area for Haven, but couldn’t find her at first. The immediate panicked threatened to set in, but he suppressed it to start rescuing people.

By his count, there were eleven people buried under the rubble, each one more appreciative than the last to be in the arms of Superman. He carried them far from the site of the explosion, but his heart was racing, pounding. He couldn't risk calling for her. That would give them both away. She would know who he was and everyone would know that she knew him. He just had to keep searching.

He landed atop the rubble again, and a man climbed over it to get to him. “Superman!” he cried, pointing to a cab that’d been crushed by a huge stone of debris. “Superman! There’s a girl in there! She ran in to go rescue some old dude when the building exploded the first time! You gotta get her!”

Fearing the worst, he flew over to the car, lifting the ton of cement off of it. He looked inside. The driver was dead, but there she was, Haven, trapped between the seats.

“Ma’am?” he called. When she didn’t respond, the blood drained from his face. “Ma’am?!”

Slowly, she lifted her head, and she looked at him with fear and awe. In that moment, he was her savior, but she wasn’t out of the woods yet. “Is he dead?!” she shouted.

What a relief, it washed over him like a wave. If her life weren’t still in immediate danger, he would’ve cried. “I’m afraid so. I’m getting you out of here! Don’t move!”

“WAIT!” she screamed. “I broke the window to get the door open, there’s a huge shard of glass in my leg!”

“I’ll take care of you, alright, miss?” He looked into her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

She nodded. Superman flew over to the other side of the cab, where Haven’s leg was being pinned by a shard of glass. She was bleeding badly, he had to act fast. He used his lasers to cut through the glass and lifted the roof of the cab from above her. Judging by the weight of that cement block, and the way the roof caved in, it was a miracle that Haven was still alive, a miracle that he wasn’t about to take for granted.

He pulled her out of the car and set her down. “This is gonna hurt, but we’re getting you into an ambulance.”

Haven readied herself for the pain, and focused on the face of her savior. Superman was glittering in the flesh, she may have been disoriented from the blood loss but she didn’t care. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. But he was familiar.

It wasn’t a distant familiarity, either. He didn’t resemble someone she saw around town very often, he looked like a friend. In his eyes, she found… comfort… and hope. She blinked at him. “Those eyes…” He took his hand into hers and tears streamed down her cheeks. Then he pulled out the glass. She barely noticed. Her vision blurred, but she still saw _Clark_ , clear as day, and he saw her, too. He held her close as the EMTs ran to her side, and she fell unconscious.

* * *

It occurred to Clark that he didn’t know what Haven’s favorite flower was, and suddenly it became the most important issue in the world. He hadn’t been to many hospital bedsides, but he was pretty sure the thing to do was bring flowers and a ‘Get Well’ card. He had the card, with a sweet message written inside just for her, but he didn’t feel that he could have gone in there without flowers.

A bouquet of sunflowers seemed to fit her just fine. Bright, cheerful, and standing tall. He walked through the hospital and people grinned. One woman congratulated him on being such a good boyfriend, it reminded him of the waitress from the diner. He wasn’t, but he didn’t mind. He would be if she asked him to be, in a heartbeat.

He found her room and the nurse allowed him inside. She was awake, talking to her dads while they watched something funny on the television. Her eyes lit up when she saw him.

“Clark!” she exclaimed. “Are those for me?”

He smiled. “You’re feeling better.”

“Of course I am, you’re here.” He walked over to her and handed the flowers and card to her. Her dads scanned him, trying to figure out when it was their daughter met a man so buff. “Oh, this is Clark. Y’all remember the Kents, right?”

Clark reached out his hand. "It's Ed and Marcus, right?"

Marcus Sloane gasped. “ _No!_ ” Clark nodded. “No way! Jonathan and Martha’s little boy?! No fucking way!” He stood up and embraced him. “My God… Haven told us that you grew up well, but this is something else.”

Haven cringed. “Dad…”

“Sorry, this is just… Wow. Son, it’s wonderful to see you!”

“It’s great to see you too.”

Ed stood to get a hug, too. He was quieter than his husband but just as enthusiastic. “We have much thanks, long overdue. Thank you for being so kind to our Haven. She never forgot about you.”

“How’d you know?” Haven asked. “These are my favorite flowers.”

“I didn’t know. They reminded me of you.”

She grinned and opened the card. “Thank you.” Clark sat next to Haven’s bed and patiently waited for her to read the card. Her dads looked at each other and made their way to the door. “Where are y’all going?”

Marcus sighed. “We’re giving you two a moment, Haven, _relax_.”

Before she could protest, they were in the hallway and the door was shut behind them. Haven read on and Clark kept thinking about the moment when he thought all was lost, when he called to her the first time and she didn’t respond. He knew fear, but he hadn’t felt it so viscerally.

“What’d the doctors say?” he asked.

“I’m a little broken. Some things more serious than others, nothing a few stitches can’t help.” She grinned. “I’m fine, though.”

“Good.”

“Good.” She looked at the card again and chuckled. “Did you _actually_ search for a poem to put in here?”

Bashfully, Clark sighed and smiled. There was that glitter again, plain as day. Those were Superman’s eyes. She couldn’t let him know that she knew, and she wouldn’t try to. The knowing was enough.

“We read that in class,” he reminded her. “It was a James Weldon Johnson poem we read for Valentine’s Day.”

She covered her mouth. “You’re right… I thought it was for Black History Month.”

“Knowing our school, it was probably both.”

She giggled. “My God. You remember everything, don’t you?”

“Everything worth remembering.”

Haven kissed him on the cheek. “I dreamed that I was a rose…” she read. “That grew beside a lonely way…”

 

> _Close by a path none ever chose,_  
>  _And there I lingered day by day._  
>  _Beneath the sunshine and the show’r_  
>  _I grew and waited there apart,_  
>  _Gathering perfume hour by hour,_  
>  _And storing it within my heart,_  
>  _Yet, never knew,_  
>  _Just why I waited there and grew._
> 
> _I dreamed that you were a bee_  
>  _That one day gaily flew along,_  
>  _You came across the hedge to me,_  
>  _And sang a soft, love-burdened song._  
>  _You brushed my petals with a kiss,_  
>  _I woke to gladness with a start,_  
>  _And yielded up to you in bliss_  
>  _The treasured fragrance of my heart;_ _  
> _ _And then I knew_ _  
> That I had waited there for you._

Her heart was ready to take flight from her ribs. She turned to Clark and lingered on him for a moment. If she were any more of a sap, she’d swear that meeting him a second time was fate. It felt like fate. He felt like a dream. Even when they were children, he felt like a dream.

Her eyes brimmed with tears that she quickly wiped away. "I'm so glad I've gotten the chance to get to know you again, Clark. You have _no_ idea."

"No I do, I feel the same way. Like we're-"

"Connected?"

His eyes flashed to her lips for a moment. "Yeah..." He looked down. "What made you run to save the cab driver?"

"I'm prone to running into burning buildings, remember? I wasn't going to let him get crushed. But I guess I fucked that part up, huh?"

He shook his head and took her hand. "No, you did a good thing, Haven, it was your capacity for heroism."

"I should've been faster."

"Faster than a falling block of cement?" She shot him a look. "You did the best that you could have done." She shook her head, Clark leaned over her. "Hey, you _tried_. That's all that matters. You tried to save him. There were hundreds of people there who were too afraid to try anything. Haven, you're amazing." 

Her lip trembled. "Clark..." His hand caressed her face. There it was again, comfort and hope, all Clark Kent. She sniffled and tried getting herself together. "Does your boss know you're here?" He nodded. "Good, because you're watching this movie with me."

She patted the spot beside her on the bed and he climbed in. She rested her head on his chest, and the image of him looking down at her while sirens sounded in the distance clouded her mind. She wanted Clark to tell her. She wanted him to trust her enough to let her know this secret. For now, she was happy just knowing it in silence, listening to the heartbeat of a man who was so much more than a man. 

Haven memorized that poem, like she did when she was a little girl. She taught it to her class, she wrote it in her notes. She carried it with her everywhere.

* * *

Another school day ended, Haven stood at the door, telling each passing child one compliment on something they did well that day. It was a big class, so it took a while, and she was so focused that she barely noticed when Clark appeared in the hallway.

Once the last kid was on their way, he walked up to her. She leaned on the doorway with her arms crossed. “Clark, you wrote a wonderful article today.”

He smirked. “Thank you, Miss. Sloane.”

“Why are you here?”

“I was thinking about you.”

“Thinking about me? I’m intrigued.” Closing the door so that they could have privacy, she walked into the classroom to tidy up. “When you were thinking about me, did you also think about Chinese food?”

“Do you want Chinese food?”

“Clark, you know me, I always want Chinese food.” She grabbed a Sharpie from her desk and leaned on it. “Sign my cast?” He took the Sharpie. Suddenly, it felt like they were kids again. He squatted down and signed his name with a smiley face in the one blank spot that the kids hadn’t touched yet. “I was really hoping I wouldn’t need a cast in the first place but…”

He handed her the Sharpie. “You wear it well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kent. Wait, are you _actually_ taking me to get food or am I just hungry and assuming that you are?”

“I’ll take you to get food, but that’s not why I came.”

“Of course. Then why did you come?”

He stood in front of her, licking his lips. "I wanted to talk." His tone made her brace herself. "Haven, I can hide so much, but I can't hide anything from you. You've been nothing but open with me, and..."

His words got lost while he stared into her eyes. She tensed. "Clark? Is something wrong?"

Taking her completely by surprise, Clark leaned down and captured her lips in a gentle, patient kiss. She swore her heart froze in place, her mind could hardly process it, but she didn’t want it to end. He placed a hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer, and her hands rested on his strong chest.

It wasn’t until he pulled away that Haven realized that her eyes had closed. Clark’s were gazing down at her, softer than any she’d ever seen. “I know you know,” he whispered, taking one of her hands in his and rubbing his thumb on the back of it. “I know you know who I am.”

“Is that what this is about?” she asked.

He nodded. “You always saw me. You were always the one who looked across the room and saw me when I was hiding and terrified of myself. I should’ve known I couldn’t hide it from you.”

“Clark… I won’t tell.”

“I know. But I'm telling you, because I wanna thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me another reason to fight for this world.” Haven smiled and kissed him again, and their complicated lives appeared simpler for a moment.

* * *

Sometimes Haven would look up to the sky and see Superman flying overhead and smile, then walk on while others stared in awe.

The awe was in her, too, but it was different. She was no longer in awe that Clark was Superman, she was in awe of what he carried. She could see it in his eyes, a distance. It was so hard feeling like he had to save the world but knowing he couldn’t save everyone. It wore on him, but didn’t wear him down.

As much as she couldn’t believe it, she was one of the reasons why it didn’t.


End file.
